


Up In Da Clurb

by rooonil_waazlib



Series: And Beyond [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bathroom Sex, M/M, literally just porn, steve needs some relief and he's not getting it from his boss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-02 00:08:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5226359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rooonil_waazlib/pseuds/rooonil_waazlib
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Look, I know you’re real hung up on Daddy Dearest—”</p><p>“Oh my <em>god</em>, don’t call him that—”</p><p>“—but I think you should probably go talk to that god over there."</p><p>Or, Steve Rogers needs some stress relief and he isn't getting it from his boss.</p><p>Or, I felt like writing Steve/Thor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Up In Da Clurb

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sideshot that takes place sometime early in the universe of [Into Infinity](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5028331), though you probably don't need to read it to know what's going on here.
> 
> (Please forgive me for the title. I guess I'm too old for clubbing because my cousin says this and I can't tell if he's being ironic or not.)

Dancing is not something that Steve’s ever been particularly good at. It’s not that he has two left feet—it’s that he really doesn’t have much sense of rhythm. At least, not when he’s sober. He doesn’t know if the alcohol just makes him care less, or if it turns his brain off just enough to let the beat take him over; all he knows is, a couple of drinks and he’s good to dance.

He manages to get three shots down before Natasha drags him in the direction of the dance floor. He grabs Clint, who grabs Sam, and their little conga line finds its way into the most crowded part of the club, forming a tight little knot that seems to wind tighter with every motion.

It’s as he spins Clint, Nat’s hand tight at his belt that he sees him: Adrienne’s teacher, beer bottle in hand, laughing and singing along to whatever’s playing. He’s head and shoulders above everyone around him, and suddenly he swings around and—his eyes catch Steve’s, one eyebrow ticking up for a second as he recognizes him.

The beat drops, and so does everyone in the club—everyone _else_ in the club. Steve looks around, blinking a bit as everyone around him jumps, arms in the air. Thor seems just as confused. Nat cocks her head at him, following his gaze to where Thor’s standing, looking at him. She grabs the front of Steve’s shirt and drags him down until she can yell in his ear. “You know him?”

“I met him my first day at work,” he replies, hand on her hip. “He’s Ada’s teacher.”

Natasha draws close as Sam jostles her, so suddenly it’s just her and Steve dancing. Next to them, Clint and Sam are holding hands and doing some kind of weird windmill thing with their arms. Sam can’t hold his drink. “Look, I know you’re real hung up on Daddy Dearest—”

“Oh my _god_ , don’t call him that—”

“—but I think you should probably go talk to that god over there,” Nat says, like Steve hadn’t said anything. Thor’s still watching them, arm around the neck of a black guy with light eyes. Steve thinks she’s probably right. He tips his head in the direction of the bar, and Thor grins, pulling away from his friend.

By the time Steve gets to the bar, Thor’s got them both tequila shots, lime wedges balanced across the rims. He tips his at Steve, then slams it, and Steve follows suit. He hates tequila. “Shouldn’t you be grading papers or something?” Steve shouts.

Thor laughs, leaning against the bar and signalling for another round. “They’re kindergarteners,” he points out. “Shouldn’t you be reading bedtime stories?”

“Aw, c’mon, I don’t spend _all_ my time with the Barneses,” Steve says, this time managing to clink his glass with Thor’s before tipping it back into his mouth. He bites the lime, suppressing a shudder, and sticks it back into the glass. Rather than wiping lime juice all over his nice jeans, he licks the trail of juice off his palm and leans against the counter too.

“Your redhead’s getting away.” Thor nods in the direction of the dance floor, where Natasha’s now sandwiched between Sam and Clint, one arm thrown back over Sam’s shoulders, the other around Clint’s neck. The three of them are kissing, still dancing, and Steve takes a second to be jealous that they’re capable of keeping the beat so well.

Then he turns back to Thor, watching him with those hypnotizing blue eyes. “Yeah, she’s not—we’re not, uh.”

Smirking, Thor’s eyes drag down and then back up; Steve can practically feel them on him. “Perfect. Then you won’t mind if I ask you to dance?”

Okay, it’s true; Steve may be really into Dr Barnes. But he’s not going to pass this one up. “Let’s go,” Steve agrees. Thor takes his hand and pulls him away from the bar.

Steve’s not a small person, not anymore, and yet as Thor gets his arms around him he feels like he’s twelve years old again, dwarfed by Sam, who’d hit his growth spurt early. His nose only just brushes Thor’s chin, swaying close to the furnace of his skin. Some surge happens in the crowd, and suddenly they’re crushed together, Thor’s thigh between Steve’s. Even though he’s sure Thor can’t hear his gasp over the music, can’t see his blush in the dark, Thor smirks at him. His hands, big on Steve’s back, slide down into the dip of his waist, and then they’re kissing, Thor’s tongue slick and hot against Steve’s.

He’s buzzed, or buzzing, or something. His stomach feels tight, knotted in anticipation, and he gets both arms around Thor’s neck so he can pull himself up, closer, closer against him. Thor makes it easy, wrapping his forearms around Steve’s waist so he can haul him in, and Steve shudders.

This is good, this is—Steve exists in half-thoughts, Thor’s hands big and hot on him, fingers across his ass, squeezing bruises into his hips. His mind isn’t on Dr Barnes anymore, no; he lets his body take over, lets himself dip down into sensation. He’s half-hard, more than that, rubbing harder every second against Thor’s hip.

Reaching up, Steve gets a hand in Thor’s hair, or tries to. His fingers get tangled in Thor’s man-bun. He pulls on it a little as he tries to untangle, feeling Thor’s rumbling groan against his neck. That sound, the vibration of it, shakes down Steve’s spine and his mouth literally begins to water. He actually goes weak in the knees, that’s how bad he wants Thor.

As Thor’s mouth tracks over his throat, Steve considers getting on his knees right there on the dance floor. But just enough of his frontal lobe is still working, so he yanks back before Thor actually gets his hands down his pants. He grabs Thor’s hand and looks around for the bathroom.

Steve’s hands are shaking as he digs through his pockets for a quarter. If he’d known he was going to get laid in a bathroom, he’d have brought a condom.

Thor is fixing his hair, leaning against the wall with one foot propped on the toilet seat when Steve joins him. He’s too jittery to care how gross the floor is, immediately getting up on tiptoes and kissing Thor again.

For a second, Thor cups his face in both hands, thumbs tracing along the curve of Steve’s ears; then he pushes Steve’s head into the angle he wants and holds him there with one hand, the other sliding down and groping his ass again. Steve twists his hips forward and then he remembers what they’re here for, sticking the condom in his pocket as he pulls at Thor’s belt.

“Guess I should’ve—should’ve figured you’d be big all over,” he mumbles as his hand slides down into the front of Thor’s pants, Thor gasping and tipping his hips invitingly. Thor laughs, his head dropping back with a metallic thud against the wall. “I just really want to blow you.”

“How could I deny a man what he wants?” Thor replies, pulling Steve in for one more hard kiss, digging his fingers into his hair before Steve kneels. The sound Thor makes as he does curls right through Steve, hot and low in his belly.

Steve’s not sure he’s ever been with someone as big as Thor; he almost loses an eye as he gets him out of his pants. He laughs a little, nervous, almost, and tears open the condom packet. Looking up into Thor’s face, he rolls the condom onto him, squeezing a little as he does and making Thor’s breath stutter.

In the moment that he pauses to take a breath, Thor reaches down and gets a hand around himself, managing a couple of strokes before Steve bats his hand away to take his place. Leaning his weight more heavily against the wall, Thor slouches a bit, hooking the fingers of one hand into the deep V of his shirt. Steve sucks the head of his cock into his mouth, palming at his own crotch as he does. It’s almost a stretch, getting his mouth on him. Steve’s kind of really into it.

Thor tastes like latex—well, the condom tastes like latex—and Steve tilts his head, trying to find a way to take him deeper. Inch by inch, he gets him all the way down, forcing down the need to choke, and pauses, nose pressed to Thor’s belly, to breathe. He can hear Thor panting above him, and he tips his face up. He grabs Thor’s slack hand and guides it into his hair, moaning around him as Thor grips tight.

“Fuck, oh, _Christ_ ,” Thor mutters, looking down at Steve looking up at him. His eyes are glazed, the pupils big and black and hungry, and his pelvis twitches. Steve blinks, slow, and waits for it. Thor’s eyelashes flutter, then he pulls back a little and presses forward again, thrusting shallowly into Steve’s mouth. His groan matches Steve’s as he tentatively begins to fuck Steve’s throat.

Steve tips his head back a bit, working his jaw just enough that he begins to drool. Thor’s hand spasms in his hair, pulling it tighter, and Steve can’t help himself—he presses his hips up against his hand, grinding the heel of his palm down. It’s so good—the stimulation of it all—his eyes roll up toward his brain.

By the time Thor’s got Steve’s head cradled between his two hands, thrusting in earnest, Steve’s got his jeans unbuttoned, jerking himself to the same rhythm. Thor isn’t being quiet—isn’t even trying—but the prickle of embarrassment along the back of Steve’s neck is barely even there. Maybe he even thinks it’s hot.

He’s so consumed in Thor’s pleasure that his own is completely secondary, and so his orgasm takes him entirely by surprise. For a moment he forgets how to breathe, forgets anything—and then he chokes on Thor’s dick. It takes him a second or two, but he manages not to die, swallowing once, then twice, eyes streaming, and Thor jerks in his mouth and comes with a sharp, “Ah— _ahh!_ ”

Still holding onto Steve’s head, Thor curls over on him. Steve pulls off so he doesn’t choke again, and Thor’s thumb under his chin tips his head back until they’re kissing again. Steve isn’t sure he’d be able to get up right at this moment, so he just lets Thor kiss him, fisting his hand in the front of Thor’s shirt.

Finally, he lets Thor pull him to his feet, lets Thor button him up again, lets him crowd him against the stall door and kiss him some more. His whole body feels like lead, especially his eyelids, and he waits for long moments while Thor makes them both decent.

Nudging his nose against Steve’s, Thor pinches at his hip. Steve wrinkles his nose but makes an effort to focus on him. “This was fun,” Thor says.

Steve hums. “Yeah, it was,” he agrees. He runs a hand down from Thor’s shoulder over his chest. “Thanks for—uh—this?”

“The pleasure was all mine,” says Thor, and suddenly they’re both laughing, Steve spluttering against Thor’s shoulder as he holds onto him to keep from falling over. Thor smacks Steve’s ass once more, then pulls back. “Okay. Alright. I suppose that’s enough.”

Steve, holding onto Thor, stands up straight and steps away from the door so they can get it open. “Yeah, I bet my friends are wondering what happened to me. I’ll—uh—I’ll see you around.”

Thor’s still grinning at him, the cat that got the cream, as they head back out into the club.

**Author's Note:**

> If you send me prompts on [my Tumblr](http://rooonil-waazlib.tumblr.com/ask), I promise I will answer them.
> 
> (Oh, and if you sensed some implications of previous or ongoing casual Steve/Nat/Clint/Sam, you would be right. And although I have no current ideas to write that, it might happen, if inspiration comes a-knocking.)


End file.
